


Call From The Past

by kirogaraii



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Character Study, Fix-It, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirogaraii/pseuds/kirogaraii
Summary: Doctor Iwamine is summoned to the principal’s office.
Relationships: Iwamine Shuu & Ichijou Mino
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Call From The Past

After the greeting, there was a complete and total silence. With only faint slivers of sunlight from the world outside- The world isolated from them both. The door too, has been locked shut.

Just the partridge and the nicobar pigeon.

“Allow me to explain why I summoned you here, doctor.” the older bird began, resting his chin against two fists. He did not look at the other bird across his desk, instead, his violet eyes remained locked on the unlabeled envelope of documents.

He began with a long sigh.

“...As you know, my name is Mino Ichijou. And I am the headmaster of this school, St. Pigeonation’s. This school has been founded by the Ichijou Group, and the headmaster before me was my brother. Kitsugu Ichijou.

This school was created… With questionable goals in mind. By questionable people. And I am not proud of the bird that my brother became. His death was inevitable.

This school was created, practically, by the Ichijou Group. Our name has been tainted with bad reputation- reasonably, bad reputation, since at least two decades now… And since my earliest memories as an heir to this wing of our family, I have known about the sketchy businesses that go behind the scenes. The money laundering, the cynical, sly moves that my parents chose to partake in.

I realized the situation around me when I was about ten years old. I remember it still so clearly to this day; a grand reunion of the various branches of our family tree. And the Ichijou family is huge, believe me. It was a couple dozen birds, all laced up, with bows and frills, suspenders. Sounds of wine and champagne glasses clinking together, in celebration of another success.

I was brought along, the one adopted child into this army of chukar partridges, to finally become acquainted with not my family members- but my future business partners. My mother took my wing and quietly led me around the hall, pointing fingers at every group of birds, and revealing their secrets for only me to hear.

This party took place in one of our many mansions, but particularly from the family that lived in the Aves High City. I never found out why exactly, because this particular family only consisted of two parents, a few rock dove maids, and one child.

I sneakily escaped my mother’s clutch eventually as she began to get more tipsy by the minute, and instead ventured out to find this child. Apparently, the only child in the building. If it was true, then I hoped to have a playmate for however long this decorated conference meeting was gonna take.

The hunt was difficult. No matter where my eyes landed, I just saw brown round chukar partridge bodies, all so much taller than me. It was almost nauseating. I thought, how do they actually find themselves in the crowd? Haha.

As the only greenish bird in the room, it was me who stood out. And after many painful minutes of stumbling around the crystal floor, I reached a table in the far corner.

It wasn’t necessarily secluded from the aristocrats just mere meters away, but the light somehow seemed weaker there. There was only a glass of water on top of it. And beside it, on a tall bar stool, sat a small greyish partridge.

I was ten years old, which isn’t very much, but old enough for a dove— This chick was three years old. And it just so happened that his third birthday was a few weeks prior, I learned later. Chukar partridges mature quicker than pigeons from nature, but regardless of that… He looked frail, and simply small.

It seemed ridiculous even to me, to place a toddler in such a spot… For what? There wasn’t even anyone nearby to supervise him.

But he didn’t  _ seem _ distressed.

He seemed… calm, and reserved. A quiet child. An ideal child, even. He was occupying himself with a book, I noticed.

I went up to the chick and asked him what his name was and… after a long pause, he whispered “Utsuro Ichijou”.

He was sitting with his back turned to the room, so I stepped closer and peeked over his shoulder to see the book. Utsuro was not reading, per se. It looked more like he was studying. He had a book by his left wing, and a notebook by his right wing. He wrote with a pen.

And then he took me by surprise. Out of nowhere he hastily asked, “What do you want from me?”

I actually got startled and took a step back, even though he didn’t budge. So I said, “My name is Mino. I’m a nicobar pigeon. My family is from the Kyushu state. What are you doing?”

Utsuro fell quiet again. He resumed to writing for a few moments, and then answered “Searching for words and definitions.”

And then he said, “My name is Utsuro. It means ‘fissure’. How is your name written?”

I felt a little dumbfounded, but returned to him. I hopped on the bar stool next to him, and offered to write it for him. Utsuro’s face was cold. Even though he was studying with such intense focus, there was a far-off look in his eyes, as if his mind was permanently somewhere else, somewhere far away.

After some hesitation, he gave me his pen, and I wrote the two characters of ‘mino’. He pulled the page closer to himself again, and analyzed the strokes. “I see.” He finally affirmed. “I didn’t expect that. ‘Nicobar pigeon’ is written differently.”

I remembered that I laughed and, well, agreed. When I think about it, the word ‘mino bato’ is quite cruel. Why are we, as a species, called ‘pigeon who covers for illegal activities’? I think the English word ‘nicobar pigeon’ is much cooler, much calmer sounding…

I noticed then that the book that Utsuro was studying from was a lexicon for JLPT. He has been studying kanji, of all things. At least I understood why he cared about my etymology though. It was cute, on top of being weird.

For a three year old, he sure was good at jotting down that N3 kanji.

I simply sat by him for a while, which he didn’t comment on. Partridge chicks are really cute. Definitely more charismatic than baby pigeons. He still had faint grey fluff in his feathers, and the stripes found on a chukar’s underbelly were very blurry. As I was staring at this asocial lost child, I noticed something… suspicious.

The feathers on his cheek were unnaturally ruffled. Beneath them, I saw his skin… Dark, bruised.

Suddenly an adult bird came from behind us, and slurred something along the lines of “Utsuro, come over here”. She didn’t let him finish, she was already tugging at his wing, and dragged him off. That far-off look in his eyes hardly changed. He only gazed longingly at the table, where he had left his books.

As they disappeared into the crowd, I called out “I’ll protect these books for you, okay?!”

...And I did...Until my own mother came by and urged me to come as well. She didn’t pull me away so roughly like Utsuro has been. But I didn’t question it at the time.

...I was sad though. I was dragged off into the night, and I never saw Utsuro again.”

A green wing landed gently on top of the envelope. With some delicacy, Mino slowly unpacked the file.

“...Utsuro Ichijou. A mysterious quiet boy. To be honest, most children of snobby wannabe-aristocrats are quiet. I was quiet too, but as time went on I kept looking back at this scene. My first and last meeting with Utsuro Ichijou. Although we were cousins of the same broken system, it felt like Utsuro lived in a much different world from me. Perhaps a different world from all of us. I felt spiteful that I didn’t get the chance to get to know him better… Because,

Just mere months after the party a tragedy occurred. The bombing. On March 7th, human terrorists targeted Area A23 Section 1, the Ichijou building, and Utsuro along with his parents became victims to the explosions and rubble.

...The man and woman died. They were the closest to the exit, and the exit is also where the first attacker intentionally placed himself. Utsuro was left behind, and maybe it was so for the better.

...Keyword is maybe. Utsuro received immediate medical attention. He was alive.”

Mino licked his thumb and flipped over a number of pages. He finally stopped at a document containing some charts, prognosis, diagnosis, and an attached photograph. A neuroimage, along with something that remained hidden beneath the bird’s wrist.

“...Utsuro, although alive, took damage to the perietal and occipital lobes of his brain. It left him with Hemiparesis on the right side, Cerebral red-cone Achromatopsia- whew what a long phrase— and near-sightedness. On top of it all, since the explosion was behind him, half of his back was third-degree burnt.”

The principal stopped. For a second he merely stared at the words typed on the document, almost two decades ago. He looked the other bird in the eyes for a second, before returning to the matters on hand.

“Shortly said, a massacre. I can’t imagine it. I cry when I burn my finger while baking.”

Mino shifted in his seat and continued to explain, in a soft empathetic tone. “Utsuro was left crippled and orphaned. And I did not find more precise info on how the situation began, my relatives choose to stay silent on this matter, but in the end Utsuro was adopted by the grandmother from his mother’s side. Apparently he recovered in silence, and he recovered well. No mentions of remarkable complications. During those years, he underwent physical therapy to regain most senses in his right limbs. After three years, Utsuro’s condition finally stabilized enough that he wasn’t bound to a wheelchair.

And once that was achieved, on a certain evening, Utsuro disappeared. Disappeared is a… loose word.”

Mino turned another page and revealed a scrap of slightly crumpled paper, the red ink having faded out somewhat from time. Shuu Iwamine downturned his chin at the page between them, remaining silent.

“...A suicide note. Utsuro claimed that he has taken his life, and he has made sure to make his body unfindable. He also mentions that he relinquishes all his things to other family members… Some names have been listed…

But the way the Ichijous handled the situation was absolutely despicable. A six year old bird disappeared, and I remember this very vividly, they just accepted it without a flinch. As if everyone expected him to die anyway. But, since reputation to the general public is important, they settled on making a search mission, putting up missing person’s posters, and writing about it as if they are all mourning the little brave Utsuro and desperately want him to come home… These bastards.

Utsuro never came home.”

Mino gestured with a hand, “Well, you might think, ‘duh, he literally admitted to having killed himself, obviously he wouldn’t come back’, but there is one thing about this case that the Ichijous don’t like mentioning and that is the fact that Utsuro went out of his room, out of his house, in the middle of the night,  _ not _ having left everything behind. He took a large bag of clothes and prescribed medications with him, his canes, and there are records that very early in the morning of the next day, a large sum of money has been deposited from his card. The cash that remained at home, and the rest of the debit card is what the other Ichijous inherited from him. But Utsuro was alive. He didn’t kill himself, he went out into the world to start a new life.

No cameras picked him up. But for all we know, they did. The Ichijous simply requested the case to stay unsolved. The only reason why the case went public was to gain sympathy from the outsiders.”

The documents ended there. Mino shut the folder, and put it aside on the table. He stared into the wood with an unreadable look in his eyes. “This story is what changed my view on the Ichijou family, no, the Ichijou clan. On documents and interviews I may have said that the reason for founding this era of St. Pigeonation’s was for a ‘truly peaceful world between the species and humans’, but that is only partially true. Half of the reason why I did this, is because I want to change the Ichijou family. The obvious assassination of my brother is the last one in Ichijou history thus far.

But being moved by Utsuro’s demise isn’t all. I continue to believe that… that he is around here somewhere. Utsuro Ichijou is…

you.”

Mino looked up to the other man across the table, who had an equally as serious feeling in his eyes.

“...Could it be, Iwamine Shuu?”

Shuu still had the same demeanor as he had when he entered the room, and sat down on the comfortable chair before the headmaster. But he knew that silence only works against a suspect, so he sighed.

“...That is quite the story, mister Ichijou. So in other words, you, an old man, have been obsessively analyzing the disappearance of your toddler cousin from over a decade ago, and now have lost your mind enough to believe that the first chukar partridge you see could be your relative?” Shuu scoffed, “How come I get all the controversies…”

“No, no, Iwamine, your species isn’t all, obviously.” Mino’s lip twitched as he sat back in his seat and opened a drawer behind the desk. Flipping through the archives for a moment, he finally took out another one and tossed it onto the table.

It was Shuu Iwamine’s archive. A photograph has been clipped onto the cover, colorful tape strips peeking out of the closed pages as markers. Mino opened the archive and began firmly.

“Born on December 12th. Utsuro too.

Species,  _ alectoris chukar _ . Utsuro too.

Eyes purple. Utsuro too.

Birth city…” Mino looked up at Shuu, “...Unknown.”

“Believe me,” the doctor scoffed again, “there are many chukar partridges that are born in December. It usually coincides with the chukar partridge breeding season—”

“Employed at the Takaba Laboratories in 2169 as a researcher.” Mino interrupted, “At age seven. As a medical researcher. However that is just the year he was employed as a medical researcher. He could’ve spent the prior year at the labs, studying, or partaking in another field in general.”

“...Yes. Prior to the Earth Crawlers, Souma Isa was a war orphan.” Shuu explained frankly, “If you read a bit more consistently, you’ll find that Souma was living at an orphanage until that point.”

“Fine, dates and locations are always inconsistent. It’s not like we can document every single happening in a bird’s life accurately. But there is one thing, Iwamine, that can’t be fabricated.” Mino turned another page, “Your medical history.”

For the first time in this meeting, Shuu Iwamine bit his lip. He began to fumble with his coat’s sleeve beneath the desk.

“You have…” Mino spoke with a lilt, “Hemiparesis on the right side, Cerebral red-cone Achromatopsia— and near-sightedness…” he looked up to see Shuu’s expression. The doctor had become visibly tense, but pushed the feeling down with everything he’s got. He remained calm and collected, until…

“...Hohoho. Hahaha.” he breathed in, “Yes, those are the result of a bombing in my childhood. It’s not uncommon at all for terrorist victims to have such complex and repetitive disabilities. After all, humans always re-use the same tactics and the same explosives. If you visit any hospital after a shootout in the area, there’ll be at least one bird who developed colorblindness and neurological damage in general. You still are not proving anything, professor Ichijou.”

“...It’s not about the fact that they’re disabilities. They are complex, under-researched disabilities that are in fact rare. There are not many birds in the world that have cerebral, incomplete, red-cone, Achromatopsia… And you know this, doctor. I can tell that you’re nervous. This is too much to be a coincidence, and you know it.”

“...Neither is it uncommon for a person to feel nervous during interrogation, even if they’re innocent.”

“You never feel nervous about interrogations.” Mino cupped his face. “This is one thing I learned about you from sheer exposure, not documents. Iwamine Shuu is scarily calm and apathetic, even when he is accused of the worst things in the world to his face. This is simply the kind of man he is.

And Utsuro… was also calm and apathetic. Apparently he never cried. Not even when half of his body was bloodied and charred from fire, and nurses were changing his bandages, all he did was wince, but never ever cry or request assistance. This is simply the kind of boy he was.

Can you see now?” Mino was relaxed, “Every single arrow in the world is pointing at you. And not at a single point of this meeting did I mention that I’d do something to you, were I to confirm that you are Utsuro Ichijou. It is the mere sound of the name that makes you…

scared.”

Shuu stared back. He did not stop staring at the nicobar with an intense, but  _ frozen _ above all, demeanor. “...And if you still insist that all of this is a coincidence, then… One thing can not be.” Mino’s eyes landed on the other’s right shoulder. “...Scarring.”

Shuu pinched a tendon on his hand so roughly, he was surprised that it didn’t slice and squirt blood right there and now. “Hm? Are you gonna ask me to take my shirt off and show if I have burn scars across my back?” he grinned, “This just keeps getting better and better. I refuse respectfully. The idea of stripping in a dim room for my fifty-something-year old boss doesn’t sound very desirable. Besides, I am taken.”

“...If you wish. I don’t need to see if you have scars or not, all that matters is your reaction. And you are… rambling.” Mino observed confidently.

“...Doctor Iwamine. I understand why you’re denying it. I completely do. You didn’t toss away your life for nothing.” knitting his brows, Mino continued softly, “You’ve done this before. Time and time again. I know of Mishio Isshiki. I know of Souma Isa. I know of Shio Ikamaru, too. But I’m sure that you wouldn’t admit to any of these names anymore, because your current one is Shuu Iwamine…”

And he did just as Mino predicted. Shuu still stared at him with a dead, far-off look in his eyes. “...All of the birds you’ve recalled are dead. Utsuro Ichijou, too.” his gaze travelled down to the desk, the upside down text of his most detailed biography article that exists. Shuu could not stop his lip from twitching then and there. “And there is no point in graverobbing.”

A long silence fell between the two birds. They both refused to budge. Mino Ichijou has a skill with people, enough of one to hire the birds that could be deemed too sporadic and emotionally complex to be trusted with the job of teaching, but rather than fail even remotely, he turned St. Pigeonation’s into the most prolific academy in the world. He may not be a detective, but he is a judge of character.

Mino raised a hand and pressed a button beneath the desk’s surface. The door lock clicked open.

“...Doctor Iwamine.” he said flatly, “You are dismissed. You can return to your duties.”

“Thank you.” said Shuu getting up, and taking his black coat in hand.

“...But if you ever meet him,” Mino continued. “Tell him that the abuse he endured in the past is now... a memory. Years move on, generations die. The Ichijous are no longer a clan that prey on each other; we are a family. And no matter who he is now, if he is in need, we will support our relative with everything we’ve got. Utsuro is not the only child that had to live through that… that lack of childhood. He has half-siblings, and cousins, who would cry from joy knowing that he is alive and continues to live. We don’t want him to change his name, or love us, or even live in our homes. If he could simply confirm that he’s here, in Littledove Hachiman City, we will make up for the years that crumbled a long time ago.

…Can you tell him that?”

Shuu was left standing in front of the door with an unreadable, distinguished demeanor. He was quiet for a moment. “...Yes, I will.

...If I ever meet him, that is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading! Not a direct part of the Shrine AU series (at least not chronologically, whoops)
> 
> Mino Ichijou is a character I always secretly love and yearn for because Moa hasn’t given us an OUNCE of info about him and what his deal is. But recently some fans on Twitter started making gijinkas for him (yay!!) so that inspired me to finish this fic!
> 
> It features a large the large hcs I have for Mino...~
> 
> Thank you for reading~!! (*´∀｀*)


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